Facts
by graffy
Summary: He grabbed his leather jacket and car keys, and prayed to God he could find her in time.


**Title: **Facts  
**Rating: **T/PG-13, for language.  
**Pairing: **Derek/Casey  
**Disclaimer: **trust me, if i owned LWD, these two would have gotten together a looong time ago

"In 1943, Gus Bodnar from the Toronto Maple Leaves scored a goal fifteen seconds into his first NHL game."

Derek looked up from his computer screen, startled. His knuckles left the spot they'd been pressing into by his mouth and he blinked stupidly at the girl in his doorway. "What?"

Casey shifted her feet, glanced at the carpet and bit her lip, before lifting her head and boring her gaze into his. "Glenn Hall played for 4,200 minutes when he was a goalie, which meant he played every minute of every game of his seven seasons. And in November 1990, a fight broke out between the Vancouver Canucks and the Edmonton Oilers, and everyone was involved except three Oilers players, so they took the puck to goal and scored. And...and in 1936, the Detroit Red Wings and Montreal Maroons played a playoff game that ended seventeen minutes into the sixth overtime period of the game."

Her shoulders slumped and she took a tentative step into his bedroom. Her hands played nervously with the hem of her shirt, and strands of her hair fell out of her ponytail and trailed messily around her face. He felt his stomach jump when she looking at him imploringly with her big blue eyes. "And I'll never really understand hockey. I spent hours researching it and you're right, I'll probably never understand that part of your life but I'm _trying_, Derek. I…I want to know why it's so important to you but I can't see it as anything but violent and unecessary but you love it and I…"

Casey swallowed, swiping quickly at the tears that rose in her eyes. "I love you," she whispered raggedly.

He had straightened in his chair during her speech, and now he couldn't do anything but stare at her as she stood, vulnerable and honest in his bedroom. His throat worked to say the words that rose to the forefront of his mind, but some sort of paralysis had struck his body, leaving him totally incapable of saying anything.

A few agonizing minutes passed as she waited, heart breaking with every second he stayed silent. Finally, when she felt like her knees would be unable to support her if she stood there, looking at him, for one minute more, she let out a small sob and a whispered, "Okay." She turned, bolting out of his room and down the stairs.

It was only when he heard the door slam and a car start that Derek regained control of his body. "Oh, fuck," he whispered, standing so abruptly that his chair toppled to the ground. He grabbed his leather jacket and car keys, and prayed to God he could find her in time.

000

_**Five Days Earlier…**_

_Derek's muscles tensed as Casey's fingers trailed across the ticklish area around his ribs. She giggled at his reaction, her smile pressed against his neck as he growled. He'd had an awful day at school (he didn't know how many more 40 percents he could handle in Astronomy, then fucking Max had been talking shit about Casey again within hearing distance of Derek, which he knew would always provoke a fight. He'd landed himself a week's worth of detention, but it was well worth it for the shiner on the bastard's face, and to top it all off, he and Sam had gotten into a fight during hockey practice, over what defense strategy they should take against the opposing team of their next game. To be frank, he was in a shitty mood, and he wasn't sure that even Casey could help him now._

_The girl in question lifted herself up onto her hands, leaning over him and letting her hair cascade around her shoulders and face. "So…what are we doing on Friday?" She smiled lazily at him, a slow grin that he knew he was the only person to ever see. "Movies on your laptop? A night out in a place where nobody knows us?"_

_He shifted, glancing away from her face. "I uh…can't."_

_The smile melted. "What?"_

_He risked a glance at her face, and felt something inside of him sink at the look of disappointment and hurt he found there. He cringed, knowing the words he was going to say next would only serve to upset her further. "I have hockey practice from six to eleven…Saturday, too. We have playoffs soon, Case, and we have to set up game plans and strategies and-"_

_She pushed herself away from him, sitting up on his bed and wrapping her arms around herself. "You're breaking another date," she informed him quietly, refusing to look in his direction. He felt panic rise in his throat and he sat up with her, reaching out to touch her. She evaded his hand, and he sighed._

"_Casey, this is my last year as Captain for the team. My last chance to win playoffs for the team. I need to have all these practices, I need to win-"_

_She stood abruptly, moving even further away from his bed. "I understand," she said sharply, pulling her hair back into a bun. He resisted groaning; when she had her hair down it meant she was in a fun, playful mood. If it was in a ponytail, she was trying to be serious but was still up for some fun. A bun, though, and all chances of her being in any sort of good mood were moot. "I understand," she repeated, adjusting her top and glaring at him, "that I'm not remotely as important as some stupid, bloody game with sticks and ice."_

_Anger rose in his chest, both at her implying that she was unimportant to him (she WAS important to him, dammit) and her demeaning generalization of his sport. "Casey-"_

"_I don't understand what's so great about it," she continued, eyes ablaze. "What's so freaking fun about skating around and slamming people into walls, and chasing after a stupid little puck?" _

"_Case-"_

"_It's a stupid game. It's not any fun to watch, it's unnecessarily violent and gruesome and I just hate everything about it! For the past three weeks you've blown off every single moment I've tried to plan with you, just so you can play your stupid little game!"_

"_Shut up!"_

_She froze, eyes wide and jaw slack, as he stood from his bed, seething. "You don't know what the __**fuck**__ you're talking about," he snarled, drawing himself to his full height and stalking towards her. "Just because some people are stupid Klutzillas and can't even come close to comprehend what it means to be on a team, to have that one outlet for frustration, that one outlet for when your stupid keener step-sister doesn't know how to keep her fucking mouth shut for five seconds. You can't even begin to know how important hockey is to me, so why don't you shut the hell up and get out?"_

_The last thing he remembered before his bedroom door slammed in his face was the broken, hurt look in her eyes as she whispered, harshly, "Fuck you, Derek," and left his room._

000

His hands tightened on the steering wheel of his car, remembering that night. Casey very rarely cursed, and usually only ever did so when he was touching her and she was begging him not to stop even as their family slumbered mere rooms away. Hearing the vulgar word slip from her lips, so venomously directed at him, had sent his head reeling.

He'd almost immediately regretted the terrible things he'd said to her when he'd let his frustration from the day consume him, but it had been too late to take it back. If there was one personality trait he had in common with her, it was stubborness for sure. He hadn't expected her to cave so quickly, and her heartfelt confession had taken him completely by surprise.

He had no idea where she could have possibly gone. There was nowhere she could run to, nowhere she could feel safe other than his room or Emily's, and she didn't need a car to get to either of those. She was going somewhere, though, and with a purpose. She hated driving, something about "saving the world" and lowering gas emissions. He honestly didn't understand it, but she believed in it so he let it slide, for once. So, for that reason, she rarely took the car unless she needed to go somewhere specific.

He groaned as he came to a red light, fingers tapping against the worn leather of the steering wheel cover as he rolled his head to the left, glancing briefly at the store display next to him. He did a double take, eyes roving over the video game store's latest Babe Raider 4 display.

And suddenly, with startling clarity, he gripped the steering wheel and suppressed the urge to growl as he realized where she was.

000

Sam gave Casey a knowing look as a loud pounding sounded against his front door, and Derek's muffled shouting reached their ears. She sniffled, wiping at her tear stained face and looked away from him before he could see the fresh wave of tears consume her. He reached over and slid a hand into hers, squeezing her fingers softly. "Do you want me to answer the door?"

She waited a few seconds before answering, quietly, "You might as well, before he breaks your door down. Or before your neighbors call the police." She gave him a weak smile. "Or both."

He huffed out a laugh through his nose, and pressed a kiss against her forehead as he rose. Sighing, he made his way over to the door, keeping the chainlock in place so that as he opened the door, it would only stay ajar a mere six inches. "What," he demanded, warily giving his best friend the once over.

Derek, to be honest, looked like hell. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair was sticking up even more than usual. He was pale and even looked like he'd lost some weight, and he somehow managed to look simultaneously depressed, happy, desperate, and mad as hell. "Open the door, Sammy," he growled, inching closer.

Sam rolled his eyes at the dramatics, and said, "Listen, Der, if you think that just because my parents are out of town, I'm going to let you bitch on my doorstep for God knows how long, you've got another think coming."

And suddenly, right before his eyes, the fight left Derek, leaving him deflated on Sam's doorstep. His left hand came up to grip the doorjamb, and he leaned his weight against it, looking up at Sam with defeated eyes. "Please," he whispered, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he was ashamed to find his vision blurry with unshed tears.

Sam had never seen Derek like this before. He looked completely broken, standing on his doorstep and begging for a chance to explain himself to his distressed girlfriend. He knew that Derek's relationship with Casey was unorthodox and stressful, but he also had known the other boy long enough to recognize that he was in love, even if Derek didn't know it. Yeah, he put his foot in his mouth more often than not, but Sam knew that he genuinely and honestly cared about the young girl crying on his couch.

"Sam," Derek begged again, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Please."

A small, warm hand slid over the one of Sam's that was resting on the doorjamb. He turned to look over his shoulder and found Casey standing behind him. She gave him a small smile and nod, indicating that he could stand aside. His fingers stretched over the chainlock and slid the small bolt aside, and retreated to the safety of his bedroom upstairs. The front door creaked open slowly, revealing each disheveled teen to the other.

Derek's eyes drank her in hungrily, while she deliberately avoided looking at him. "I never meant it," he said hoarsely. She looked at him, a questioning look in her dark blue eyes, and there was nothing he could do to stop his knees from giving out. He fell to the ground, kneeling in front of her, and buried his face against her stomach as he wrapped his arms around her thighs. "Fuck, Casey, I never meant it. You have to know that. You're not stupid, you're not Klutzilla, or a keener, or anything else I might have said you were just because I was in a shitty mood."

Her hands remained by her side, despite the fact that they itched to wind their way through his unruly hair. She remained passive, staring at the top of his head without any external interest. Her apparent nonchalance made him tighten his grip around her and nuzzle her stomach desperately. "If I could take it back, I would," he muttered against her top. "If I could go back and never say any of it, I would." When she remained quiet, he squeezed his eyes shut tight, and moaned. "Baby, please. I…I can't do this. I can't sleep at night without you, and knowing that you're mad at me. I can't see you in the halls or have class with you and not have you so much as look at me or say something, anything."

She didn't say anything for a few, agonizing minutes, and then shut her eyes and whispered, "I'm tired. I'm tired of feeling like I need to compete with a damn sport for your attention. The past few weeks…all you've done is talk about hockey, or go to hockey practice, or watch it on television and you don't even notice me when I try and talk to you."

His breath was ragged and his grip was tight against her, desperate for her to understand. "I know," he said. "I…you're more important. The most important thing in my whole life and I don't know how I'm supposed to go on without you, Casey. These five days have been miserable and I don't…I can't…fuck." He looked up at her, embarrassed by the tears in his eyes. "I never wanted you to think you had to compete with hockey," he confessed. "I never…never meant for you to look up useless facts about some sport I know you don't like, just because you wanted to make me happy…just because I was an asshole. I don't deserve you," he whispered, tears falling down his face and soaking her top. "But hell, Casey, I love you. I love you so god damn much. Please don't leave me."

She collapsed almost immediately, falling into his arms and he willingly caught her and pressed desperate kisses against her hair. She cried against his neck, and her arms wrapped around him tight. He held her against him as she sobbed. "I love you," he repeated, firmly, pulling back so that he could kiss her on the lips. Her breath was hot as it mixed with his, and she whispered, "I love you, too."

It was fifteen minutes at least before they stood once more. Derek enveloped Casey's hand in his own, tugging her out the door as he said, softly, "Let's go home, Case."


End file.
